A few months ago, one of my church leaders gifted me a couple of seedlings. I already prepared the vacant, lifeless patio and bought a few pots and soil to prepare everything before I left for uni.
When I came home for a quick vacation, I was a bit disappointed at the state of my plants 😔. My basil became infested with aphids, which led to being infested with ants. Meanwhile, my cherry tomato plants were getting strangled by weeds. 🥲
So, I cleaned the place up, took out the weeds and sprayed some cayenne garlic pepper solution on the infected basil leaves.
And I pruned... a lot, that the plants started to resemble a patched poodle 🐩.
But perhaps, the biggest investment by far was installing a trellis for these clinging plants, spending almost two thousand pesos for a proper trellis.
There's something philosophical in growing plants that the hustle life just doesn't have. Maybe it's my current form of rebellion-- choosing slowness in a world that glorifies the rat race of what it considers "success".
Maybe it's the growing, nails digging in the dirt, and the feeling of accomplishment in harvesting plant parts to be used in the next dinner what makes it worthwhile 🍽️.
The modern world often demands screen time, and inherently shifted our source of dopamine towards digital means. As a result, our tactile world significantly shrinks as time goes by. What I am doing I guess, is "going back to the roots" (both, in the literal and the figurative sense).
Maybe it's also my way of reconnecting to my ancestors in my mother's side of the family, or bridging what I've learned at my Agri- Uni and apply it here.
Honestly, whatever I'm doing this for, I'm still figuring it out. But I admit, while I'm here, the cultivation life is fascinating and awesome, and in these trying times, we have to make time for a bit of fascination and awe in our lives.